JK Rowling's Book of Practical Cats
by Blonde Shadowcat
Summary: In Harry's fifth year, Umbridge forces the students to perform their first and only school musical: Cats. We can only guess how that'll go over.
1. A difficult matter

Well now.

I just became obsessed with the musical "Cats", so I'm going to take it out on Harry Potter.

Everything takes place in Harry's fifth year. Take note of that, because a lot of the fifth book happenings are very important to the plot.

So here goes….

* * *

"What?!" 

Ron's mouth fell open as stared at the decree that had been recently put upon the wall of the Entrance Hall. His eyebrows arched, his blue eyes flashed in the reflection of the early morning sunlight, and in a millisecond he was gone from the spot. He dashed into the Great Hall, heading straight for the Gryffindor table. He spotted Hermione's cloud of brown hair and the dark black-haired tuft next to it. He ran forth, grabbed hold of Harry's robes and pulled him backward, almost knocking him off his bench.

"Bloody hell--" he mouthed between bites of melba toast, "whatareya doin'??"

"You have to see this," Ron said impatiently.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked worriedly, "Is something wrong?"

"Umbridge posted another decree," Ron said quickly.

"Well, what does it say?" Harry said, now fully finished chewing his toast.

"I…don't know."

"You don't know?" Harry looked incredulous, "You read it, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Ron's ears were beginning to change color, "Of course I read it! I just…" he stumbled for the right words, words that would make his statement seem less stupid. "I just…didn't know what it meant."

"Let me see it."

Hermione edged her way through a protruding Harry, who was only half-way off his seat, and nearly toppled him as well. Harry made a high screeching sound and flailed his arms to balance himself. He ended up grabbing hold of Hermione's arm and almost took her down with him. Before almost uttering her own 'eep!', she turned to Harry.

"Cool it," she said irritably and steadied him.

"Hey now," Harry shot back, "that's the second time in the past two minutes that I was almost pushed over."

"Want a third one?" Harry heard a snide voice say behind him. He turned, his annoyance in no mood for the Slytherin who he knew had been connected to the taunting voice that had called to them. Draco Malfoy was striding over, his smirk the same as it ever was; his arrogance overflowing through his loud, clear voice.

"I knew ginger had problems with reading, but this is just sad," he said, smiling wide.

"Fine then, ferret boy, you go read it! See if you know what the hell that insane woman's talking about!" Ron said hotly.

"Alright, I will." And with that, he gave Harry a little push, and glided between him and Hermione. He brushed against her as he passed, and got close to her face, smirking perversely. She growled menacingly, but was too busy preventing Harry from falling over again to hex him for it.

"What _is_ it with you people?!" Harry yelled.

"Come on," Hermione said, ignoring the growing color in her face.

They watched Draco stalk off, and followed the haughty blond to the Entrance Hall. The trio made their way through the massive wooden doors to look out into the vast hall. They gazed at the long wall where the decrees stood one after the other, piled next to each other like awards in a trophy box. Hermione traced the air where the line of plaques lay before her, counting, seeing which one was the newest.

"Over there," Ron pointed.

The group followed Ron's fingerpoint, and found the plaque that was recently nailed in. It read, in its freshly gilded lettering:

"Decree Number Eighty-Five: Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will perform a spring musical once a year."

Hermione looked at it blankly, confusedly. Harry gave a grunt of discontent. The two of them understood the decree, but were quite confused as to why it had been put there. It made no sense as to why magical people would do a musical…

"See?" Ron babbled, "It doesn't make any sense!"

"What the hell is a 'musical'?" Draco said, just as confused as Ron.

"You mean," Hermione smiled, looking at the two purebloods, "that you two have never heard of a musical?"

"Hermione," Harry nudged her arm with his elbow, "they wouldn't know."

"And why not?" Draco steamed.

"It's a muggle thing; you wouldn't understand." Harry said with a smug smile. Hermione giggled.

"Oh, that's right!" she turned to Ron, "You really wouldn't know…"

"Oh come off it!" Ron said impatiently, "What is it?!"

"It's just a play," Hermione shrugged, "a play that has singing and dancing in it."

"We call those 'operas', mudblood," Draco said coldy.

"It's not the same, dimwit," she snapped, "It's like an opera, but has some speaking parts in it, and doesn't sing in the same style. The subject matter's quite different, too."

"Does it still have all the fat people with horns in them?" Ron looked worried.

"No," Harry laughed imprudently, "musicals and operas are totally different. But I guess that would be an easier way of describing them."

Ron and Draco looked at one another, the same stupid look on either face. As if on cue, the two boys immediately broke character, looking away from each other, and went into choruses of "I knew that…".

"It really isn't a problem, Ron," Hermione said kindly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "we wouldn't expect you to know what it is. It's just a muggle thing."

"Oh, okay." He sighed, smiling weakly. She turned him on his shoulder, and the three began to file back through the huge wooden doors. They reentered the Great Hall and reached their house tables, only to see the dreaded Professor Umbridge beginning to stand. They quickly sat down as she gave her audacious little 'ahem' that signified that she was about to say something out of line and ridiculous.

The Hall became quiet, all eyes exasperatedly turned toward the squat pink-ridden woman. She batted her eyelashes robotically and tiptoed her way down the several large steps that separated the staff table from those of the pupils. When in closer earshot, and with less of an excuse to ignore her, she began.

"I assume you've seen my most recent decree." She said brightly. Her audience gave a groggy reply; some rolled their eyes, others muttered a vague "yeah", and still others just resumed eating while facing her, eyes wide with confusion.

"How many of you have auditioned for a play before?" she asked merrily. Most of the muggle-borns raised their hands limply, having already read and understood the decree, knowing what was coming next.

"Wonderful. About half of you. You can help those who don't quite get it as well as you." She resumed.

"We are going to be performing the first musical to be held at Hogwarts. The minister wants us to be more…in touch with our muggle neighbors, and what better way to do it than to adopt one of their customs!" she grinned maniacally as the crowd winced.

"A musical is a muggle tradition that involves a play with music, singing, and dance. Every musical needs a full orchestra, but considering as we _probably_ won't be able to find players of every instrument in a full orchestra here," she looked from one table to the other, her high-pitched voice crooning into a sigh, "it will be done magically instead. Any students who can play an instrument fluently can participate." She began to walk down the hall in little paces.

Only some of the students looked interested. They consisted of about a fourth of the muggle-borns who had raised their hand. Only this select few were major theatre fans, and actually actively participated in the performing arts. They didn't exactly jump for joy though, since each and every student had their suspicions: anything brewed up by the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher usually ended in disaster for the students.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention," she said, upon noticing the looks on the many faces who read clearly 'in your dreams, toad-face,' "those who perform in the production, whether instrumentally, acting, or in set and crew, won't have to spend their class time attending to Hagrid's fresh batch of blast-ended skrewts." She saw each expression change with the drop of a pin, and she smiled wickedly.

"The musical we will be performing is called "Cats"," she said, with her nose held high. Many of you muggle-borns will know that it's a very popular show on Broadway, very highly accredited, and because of that, it is quite suitable for our standards."

"Yeah right," Harry muttered in Ron's ear, "she just wants to do that one because it's all about her favorite teacup decoration." Ron sniggered, biting his lip sharply so to prevent him from being heard.

"An overall description of the characters and plotline will be posted in front of my room. Sheet music for the auditions will be passed out to students who wish to try out," she looked around, satisfied that she had everyone's attention, "which will be next Monday." Her eye twitched under its vast and wrinkling forehead. After her insane smile reached its peak, the devilish stare melted into a false look of polite calm.

"That is all," she piped. And with a roundabout on her clunky heel, the rosy toad returned to her seat, leaving a startled student body in her wake.

* * *

I know, I know, it's super short, but all my first chapters are, so bear with me. 

And review!! It makes me update faster :D


	2. If you were and you are

Bonjour!!

Everything I say about T.S. Eliot and his book in the chapter are true.

And I know it's true because I have the said book sitting right next to me.

I love that book. So cute.

MOVING ON.

* * *

It was January. The students of Hogwarts had just returned from their cozy homes from over their Christmas holidays. Returned happy, satisfied, and content with the visitation of family and friends. A sense of relaxation seemed to take over most of the student body, the usual sentiment that comes with the end of Christmas, and the slow introduction back into everyday life. And, as a result, many of the teachers, as teachers are wont to do, decided that it was almost obligatory to assign as much homework as they possibly could, as if the students had to make up what their brains clearly lost over their break. 

It was late; several hours past dinnertime. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, hardly noticing the snowy frost outside their window, but busy at work with the usual overhaul of homework that they received as their late Christmas present from their beloved teachers.

Harry was sitting in the corner of the couch parallel to the fireplace, quill in hand, book in lap, and parchment on top of the said book for him to write his most recent essay given to him by Professor McGonagall. Only seven words had been written on the yellowed parchment, and he highly doubted that 'The Topic that Bores Me to Death' wasn't going to exactly be the title to entice his Transfigurations teacher into giving him that 'O' on his paper. He contemplated scribbling it out, knowing too well she wouldn't be too pleased with his cheek.

Ron was in the chair perpendicular to the fire, with his potions book wide open, and many random papers littering the floor around him. He too had a paper to write, and was viciously scribbling on his parchment he had plastered over his rotting potions book. His face screwed up in concentration, only to scratch out the previous two sentences he had just taken a half hour to compose.

Hermione looked at him with a weak smile. She was cuddled on the couch with Harry, leaning against his upright arm while she sprawled out her limbs on the rest of the furniture. She had been serenely reading a book, having her assignments finished an hour before dinner. She looked out the window; the sleety snow fell like powder onto the frozen windowpanes, blowing about as easily as it had fallen.

She snapped her book shut, propped her elbows upon Harry's knee, and held her chin in her palms, looking up at him. She moved his arm so that he'd notice her stare.

"I said no, Hermione." Harry said stubbornly.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione pleaded, "It's not that bad, you know--"

"Well, _I'm_ not trying out." Ron said, wanting to use Harry's defiance as a common ground for his own.

"Yes, you are!" Hermione snapped, her head whizzing from its fixation on persuading Harry to glare at him. Ron widened his eyes with worry and stared futilely at his potions book for a better distraction from the conversation.

"You're both trying out. You've just _got_ to."

Ron gave an indignant huff, furiously flipping the pages of the book, still pretending not to hear.

"I'm going to help you, of course." She said reassuringly, looking back at Harry, who was clearly losing his poker face as she continued to prod him.

"Look at me, Harry"

"Nuh-huh," Harry said, holding his parchment closer to his face.

"Come on, I'll help you," she looked more innocent by the second, eyes getting bigger and droopier, lips getting smaller.

"N-no, Hermione…"

"Ron will do it if you will."

That was all she needed to say.

"…He will…?" Harry looked at Ron, not sure what to believe. If his best friend would go through this humiliation with him, it was almost worth it.

"Won't you, Ron?" Hermione asked loudly, madly.

"Hey now…"

"Ron…" Hermione glowered, "you know you'd try out if Harry did--"

"Well yeah, but he's not going to--"

"Yes he is!" Hermione hissed.

"He is?" Harry put his paper down, looking back at Hermione.

"You are?" Ron asked with honest interest.

Harry looked at Hermione. She was too persistent for his own good. The things he did to make her happy…

"I will if you will, mate," Harry said with an exasperated sigh.

Ron, not wanting to openly agree to the project, gave an affirmative clearing of his throat.

"So you'll audition, Ron?" Hermione cooed.

Ron looked away, mumbling something along the lines of "Harry…losing your dignity…fine."

"Fine?" She called.

"Fine." He repeated.

She popped up from Harry's knee, sitting up straight, eyes wide with obvious excitement.

"Well, I have so much to explain to you before we start." She said avidly.

"Wha…why?" Ron spluttered.

"You need to be prepared, don't you?" she said. When neither interrupted her, she began.

"I read up on the entire thing."

"The whole musical?" Harry gaped, "No one could have done that, Hermione! Those types of things have so many--"

"Well, not the _whol_e thing," she said with a roll of her eyes, "just the plotline, character development, and the style of the singing and dancing."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. This was either going to be a very good thing or a very bad thing. The obsessive-compulsive Hermione that they knew and loved was going to go through the same cycle she did with everything else that caught her fancy; she would read and read until all information on the topic had been drained from existence.

A tinge of nervousness etched Harry's gaze as his knowing look reached Ron's.

"But do you know the music?" Ron asked, trying to be a little more interested. After all, they were stuck in it now; she wouldn't let them turn back. If they had to go through with this, they had to at least know what they're doing.

"Well, no," Hermione said, "but I found books that describe the play and how it's done, made, and prepared for." She looked from one boy to the other, glad to know that they were at least somewhat interested.

"I also found the book the whole play's based upon." She launched herself from her perch on the couch and disappeared as she spun about the girl's dormitory steps. Within the minute she was back downstairs with the little book.

"The whole plotline's based on that little thing?" Harry pointed.

"Yes. _Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, by T.S. Eliot_," she trilled.

"Who's he?" Ron asked quizzically.

"He was a muggle writer during the early 1900's," Hermione said, as she started to sit down with the book, "If you took muggle studies, you'd know that he was one of the many 'fireside poets' who were famous authors during that time."

"Poet?" Harry asked.

"Well, of course!" Hermione said, eyes wide, "This book is _only_ poems. He created all of these characters, and they're all cats. And they each have a poem about themselves. That's where the musical got their lyrics."

"Hermione, I thought muggle musicals used current-day songwriters to write their lyrics." Harry said, taking the book from her. He flipped through the pages, letting the old papers flap from up to down in perfect unison.

"Well, usually they do. But this one was pretty much written for them, so why not take advantage of it?"

"I guess…" Harry trailed off, reading the lines of the first poem in the book, called _The Naming of Cats_. He read the first few lines, scanning its arrangement.

"He's pretty good," Harry mused.

"Of course he is," Hermione rolled her eyes, "he's kindof known for that."

"Lemme see," Ron was out of his chair, across the rug, and at Harry's arm before he knew it, snatching the book out of his hand before being able to read the tenth line.

"Hey!" he said, "I was reading that!"

Ron ignored him, and Harry saw his friend's light-colored eyes dart to and fro across the page. He flipped it. Scanned the next.

"It sounds a bit snooty."

"Not snooty," Harry said with a shrug, ignoring Hermione's indignant form, which he knew would pounce on the subject within the second, "It just looks kindof…proper."

"You're right, Harry," Hermione said, recovering from her restrained retort.

"Very proper…" Ron was still on _The Old Gumbie Cat_ when Hermione took the book back.

"Oye!" He said irritably.

Harry snickered.

"It's in that style, Ron, because of the timeframe in which it was written."

"People actually talked like that back then?"

"Well, muggles did at least." Hermione shrugged, "some people can't even understand some of the literature that was written back then."

"I find that hard to believe."

Hermione smiled, looking over to Harry.

"He wouldn't get past the page two if someone told him to read something like _Pride and Prejudice_".

"Say what?" Ron said.

"Hey, don't look at me," Harry threw up his hands in defense, "I don't read anything from the ancient times."

Hermione rolled her eyes. They were only boys, after all. It isn't like they'd know.

"Anyway," she continued, "reading this book should help you for the audition."

"Hey," Ron said hopefully, "maybe if we really really suck, they won't let us into it!"

Harry's eyes lit up.

"Do you think that'd work?"

"Oh don't be stupid." Hermione said, leaning her weight on her elbow as she rested it on the arm of the garnet couch, "you'd still have to work with those ruddy skrewts if you don't participate."

"Damnit." Ron muttered, wrinkling his nose.

"So…we don't have any choice, do we?" Harry said dully to Ron.

"We already established that, Harry," Hermione said with a giggle.

The boys' misery clearly didn't phase her at all.

She gave them a few moments of silence to muse over other alternatives that she knew wouldn't work; loopholes that she knew had no use. She bit her lip, trying to refrain from laughing at their persistence.

"I guess that means…" Harry said with a sigh, "that we're going to have to…"

"Sing." Ron said, staring fearfully into the fire.

"And dance." Harry finished for him.

"Oh come on!" Hermione smiled, "It's not going to be that bad!"

"I can't keep a tune to save my life!" Ron said, clenching his teeth.

"Wait…neither can I…" Harry said.

"And I'm awful at dancing…" Ron's eyes were cross. "I'm going to have to practice day in and day out…"

"IT'S GOING TO BE THE YULE BALL ALL OVER AGAIN!!" Harry screeched.

Hermione whacked him upside the head with the book, shaking him from his crazed stupor.

"You two are going to be _fine_!" she said with an unrestrained toss of the book onto the floor. "You two are acting like a couple of children!"

"Oh easy for you to say, Hermione," Ron replied, "you can actually sing…"

"It doesn't matter how well you do…not with singing, at least," she said, starting to laugh, "if you aren't as good of a singer, they'll give you a part that doesn't have any solos."

That seemed to calm them down a bit, before she muttered a soft, "but that means you'll probably get a bigger dancing part…"

The boys' jaws dropped in fear. Ron let out a stifled gasp.

"Hermione…" he began, "when are auditions again?"

"Monday." She said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"And today's…"

"Wednesday. Don't worry. I'll teach you everything I know."

Harry took off his glasses to rub his nose. He took his fingers through his messy hair and groaned miserably.

"This is gonna be hell…"

* * *

What'd you think? I already know who I'm casting, but it's still funny to see who you think will end up as which character. And you might be right. :D

Review for meeeee!!!


	3. Jump like a jumping jack

Hola!!!

Yep. My tangent was long.

Here's the additive to the story. My goal's to have an update once every week or two. So here goes!

* * *

Ron scuttled up to the portrait of the fat lady. He was viciously stuffing his Charms book into his bag when he stopped before the portrait hole. His book refused to fit into the bag, and he shoved and shoved until he successfully squished the remnants of his completed homework beneath. He grunted angrily, completely forgetting that he was standing in front of his entrance without getting anywhere.

"Ahem," the fat lady raised an eyebrow, very discontent with Ron's lack of attention towards her.

"Oh," Ron's flushed face glanced up at her, losing contact with his growing frustration.

"Um…er…" he stumbled over his words before his face lit up with recognition, "Oh! Fish paste!!"

The fat lady smiled.

"You should have remembered that, young man," she shifted her weight over as the portal revealed itself to him, "that word is in your little musical that you're trying out for."

"It is?" Ron asked, quizzically turning around to look at the portrait hole that was now behind him. He furrowed his brow before shrugging and sighing a boyishly content "Oh well…" before entering the Gryffindor common room.

Before he was all the way in he could hear Hermione's stern voice.

"Jump for me, Harry,"

Ron couldn't help but snigger. "In more ways than one" was all he could mutter to himself.

When Ron came into the common room, he had just caught Harry as he made a short little pirouette on his left foot. Ron's mouth fell open. Harry actually looked…dare he even think it…just a little bit like he knew what he was doing. Graceful wasn't really the word for it, but hell, that really was the only word that came to mind.

"Damn," Ron said loudly, after Harry landed. "What've I missed?"

Harry yelped and ran behind the sofa.

"You weren't _watching_, were you?" His eyes were huge, and his shoulders hunched deep into his neck.

"I just walked in," Ron said, throwing up his hands. "What was that, anyway?"

"I was _practicing_!!" Harry yelled.

"I wasn't told about this!" Ron said, glaring at Hermione, "We're supposed to practice together, so that we both know what we're doing…"

Hermione was trying so hard not to laugh. Ron and Harry were acting as if he had walked in on the two of them making out on the couch. Harry was trying to regain his composure in front of Ron, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"Ron," she said, smiling wide, "Harry's surprisingly good at this…"

"Am not!!!" Harry screeched, as if trying to say that he was horrible would protect his masculinity.

"He catches on so quickly," Hermione continued, gesturing to Harry, "I only have to explain it to him once, and it just…"

"Just what?" Ron asked.

"Just…comes naturally for him."

Harry cowered further behind his hiding place.

"I blame you," he said lowly to Hermione from across the couch.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, looking to his best friend, "If it makes any difference, I thought it was great."

"What?" he said, his ears quirking up.

"Well, I sure as hell can't do that. That," he gestured to the spot on the rug where Harry did his jump, "was pretty awesome."

Harry laughed.

"You really think...?" Ron smiled.

"I'm not a pansy." Harry said quickly. Hermione burst into giggles.

"I know you're not." Ron laughed.

"Well the whole school's going to think so!" he said worriedly.

"You're just good at dancing, that's all." Ron said with a shrug of the shoulders.

With that affirmation, Harry came out from behind his couch.

"Okay then," he came closer to Hermione, "please explain to me why this was so hard for me during the Yule Ball."

"It's not the same style," she said simply, "that was ballroom dancing. This is jazz and ballet."

"I have..._no_ idea what that means." Harry said.

"Different ways of dancing equals different levels of difficulty," she said with a cock of her head.

"Okay," he looked away, going back to the stance he had before Ron came in.

"So do I get special treatment too?" Ron said, looking at Hermione.

"If you want. I've practiced with you a lot lately."

"Do you think you can teach me to do what Harry just did?"

"I don't know," she said, looking over to Harry, who was practicing his turns off in a corner.

"You're good enough to get in though, for sure." She said affirmatively.

"What kind of a part do you think I'll get, Hermione?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Well," she said, trying not to stare too much at Harry, "you'll probably get a chorus part, since you don't really like to stand out all that much."

"Don't like to stand out?" he asked incredulously, "If Harry's going to be some jazzy prodigy, I want something better than a chorus part."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with this play, Ron."

"Well," he said, putting on the face she knew all too well: stubbornness.

"If Harry gets a big part, I want one too."

"But dancing doesn't come as naturally for you as it does him."

"Then make me better at it."

"Ron, the auditions are tomorrow."

"I'm already decent, aren't I?"

"Yes, but if you're looking for a huge part…"

"Then just push me as hard as you can."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. She looked at Ron's eagerness. The things these boys did to stick together…

"Alright fine." Ron grinned.

"But I've already taught you most of what I know."

"Well then, what do you suggest?"

"Practice day in and day out until your audition tomorrow." Hermione smiled smugly.

"And that's what you're here for," he said, returning her haughtiness.

Harry was off practicing in his corner, and only heard bits and pieces of the conversation. Between steps he yelled over to Ron.

"Hey Ron! Whatcha talkin' about?"

"Just practicing more." Ron called back.

"Mkay," Harry muttered as he stopped his turn, put his right foot in front of him, and started over again from the beginning.

"Alright Ron." Hermione stepped back to make room for him, "get into position."

He contorted his lanky figure into the stance that she usually had him stand in; first position ballet.

"Now turn." She said.

Ron turned. It was a little shaky, but he didn't wobble nearly as much as he usually did.

"Try two of them."

"Two?" He asked.

"You told me to push you." She said with a smile.

"Okay." He spun on his right foot, successfully turning a turn-and-a-half and stumbled before reaching two.

"Damnit!"

"It's fine." Hermione said calmly, "You're doing well. Harry," she called over.

"Yeah?" Harry said loudly.

"Come here. Show Ron how to do a double turn."

"Okay."

Harry walked over like his usual self, but then stood next to Ron, and did his double-turn.

"Just focus on a point." Hermione said, pointing to a candle on the fireplace mantle. "Focus on that when you spin, and it'll help you from getting dizzy."

His next try was better, but he still didn't get it completely.

"Here, try this." And Harry turned the other way, counterclockwise.

Ron turned in the direction given, and completed the turn without any further trouble.

"See? He can do it, he just doesn't start on the same foot as I do."

Ron let out a whoop of victory as Hermione's smile widened.

"I just hope you're happy with the role you get, Ron."

"So that means you think I'll make it?"

Without a second glance at him, she nodded.

"What about me?" Harry said happily.

Hermione simply smacked him upside the head in response.

* * *

Another chapter should be soon, since I'm really in the mood to write right now.  
Don't forget to review:D


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